


The Way We Get By

by EllieL



Series: The Way We Get By [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Trip to Bespin, Vignettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 06:42:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20774234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieL/pseuds/EllieL
Summary: A series of vignettes on the way to Bespin.For the September 2019 HanLeia Challenge prompt "tropes." Because it's my favorite trope.





	The Way We Get By

It was a truth universally acknowledged that space was frigid. Something beyond cold, permeating everything and everyone that traveled in it. 

Or so it had always felt to Leia, raised on a planet that valued nature and the outdoors and sunlight on the skin. She could never get warm enough on a ship, and that had become doubly true since they’d come to Hoth; even having left it behind, she still felt the chill lingering, like ice crystals in her veins, even here on the Falcon. 

Rummaging in the cabinets in the galley, she paused in her supply inventory long enough to assess the vast quantity of tea and decide that there was more than enough for her to make a cup to drink while finishing up the tally of food stores. The steaming mug warmed her hands, and as she held it close and inhaled, managed to warm her face and even her lungs, just a little. It felt like something inside her was finally thawing.

Only then could she ponder the presence of so much tea aboard a ship whose captain never drank anything but kaffe, and a first mate who had his own specialized blend. Actually, as she’d looked down the inventory of provisions she’d been working on, there were a lot of items she’d never seen either of them use, though they were favorites of hers. Tea, Chandrilan honey, dried white strawberries. She tapped her stylus thoughtfully on the datapad before deciding to go find the man who’d stocked the ship in the first place.

In the aft hold, she found him replacing a wall panel, banging a bit more forcefully than truly seemed necessary to fit it back in place. She waited, sipping the tea, enjoying the tendrils of aromatic steam that both soothed and warmed her. When he finally turned to her, she held out the datapad.

“What’s this?”

“Galley supply inventory. There are two months worth of dehydrated ration meals, so we should be fine for six weeks. There’s a decent amount of fresh, frozen, and preserved that we can mix in to break up the blandness.”

He barely glanced at the list before handing it back to her. “You volunteering for kitchen duty? I thought you couldn’t cook?”

“You’d be better off letting me repair the hyperdrive.”

“You’re welcome to take a crack at it. Can’t break it worse than it already is.”

She tapped the datapad against the edge of her mug, lightly, just enough for the clink to echo in the hold. “Why is there so much stuff here you don’t even like? I’ve never seen you drink tea and there’s got to be six months worth in the galley. Nice stuff too, not that garbage from the mess, so I know you weren’t stocking them with it.”

Cocking a brow at her, he smiled. “Where’d you think your personal stash all came from, Princess?”

“But why do you still have it? You were leaving.”

“D’you really not—?” He trailed off and shook his head, frowning again.

“Not what?” Her brow furrowed, and she frowned slightly in return.

Turning back to the wall panel, he gave it a little wiggle, then another overly firm  _ whack _ into place. She heard something click behind it, as if it had finally snapped into place. Or broken; on this ship, it could be difficult to tell. But it must have satisfied Han, as he rested his hand on it for a moment. Only then did he turn back to her.

“Needing to leave and wanting to leave are two different things.” Their eyes locked, briefly, then he strode past her, boots echoing down the hallway.

*

“Whatcha reading?”

“Oh! It’s um, just an old novel I loved as a teenager. I found it on one of the old datapads in the lounge.” She shifted in the pilot’s seat, unsure if she wanted to block his view of the screen or not. The novel was not nearly as good as she remembered it being; in fact, it was almost embarrassingly awful.

“Huh, didn’t think I had anything other than engineering manuals and star charts on those. What’s it called?”

“ _ Dead Flowers _ .”

His face scrunched up in distaste. “Oh. That...that sounds silly and depressing. Why would you read that?”

Dropping the tablet into her lap, she frowned up at him. “I’m not actually sure. It’s nowhere near as good as I remembered. Typical teenage angst, where everything seems terrible. Then you grown up and realize what  _ terrible _ actually feels like, and decide maybe this was crap.” 

“Ya know, there’s a complete set of Farik’s Hyperdrive Systems out there. Would be a much better read. You might learn something useful.”

She let out a huff of a laugh at that. “Probably. But I wanted a distraction from the complications of hyperdrives at the moment.”

He sat down in Chewie’s chair, relaxing into the seat as his eyes scanned a few of the monitors before returning to her. “We’ll be ok. It’s going to be long and slow, but systems are optimized now and we’ll get there. All the work we’re doing now is just...tinkering. Killing time. Minor stuff we never had the time for.”

“I’m not--” she shook her head. “It doesn’t really worry me. In some ways, this is actually  _ nice _ . Like a vacation.”

Cocking an eyebrow, he shook his head, disbelieving. “ _ Riiiight _ . Folks are just begging to spend weeks at sublight on the edges of the Outer Rim.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“How is this nice then?” He gestured out at the stars, barely moving past the viewscreen.

“Not being frozen for a change. Having time to sit and read a book that’s just silly. Getting to know...friends...better.” She fumbled with the words, not sure how wise it was to let that sentiment become something actually spoken between them.

“What do you wanna know?”

She tapped a nail against the edge of the datapad. “Anything?”

He shrugged but his eyes looked wary. “Sure.”

For a long moment, she was quiet, then sat forward, reached out, and with one finger traced the bloodstripe down the outer seam of his pants, where it curved along his knee. “How did you earn these?”

His eyes met hers for a silent minute, then he looked away, out the views even again before speaking. “Chewie. They were gonna execute him, for leading the slave revolt on Bazian. Kept ‘em from killing him, but got me booted outta the Academy, and gave me the stripes from Corellia.”

“Chewie—Chewie  _ led _ the revolt on Bazian?” She couldn’t keep the astonishment out of her voice. It had been galactic news, an early spark of the Rebellion, and the Wookie had never mentioned it.

“Well, he was one of the leaders. Only one they got alive. Why’d you think he’s been so happy to stick around?”

“I...I assumed because of you.” She hadn’t ever considered it, actually, had just thought of them as a package deal. “I thought you two were a team.”

“And if he hadn’t wanted to stick around we wouldn’t have.”

“So he’s the reason you’ve stuck around so long?” There was a glassy edge to her voice, hard but fragile.

“What do you think, Leia?” His voice and his eyes were soft, focused on her, only her.

She rose and moved next to his chair, tilted her head down until her lips nearly grazed his ear. “I know why you stayed.” Her lips brushed across this stubbly cheek before he turned his head and she captured his lips with hers. 

It seemed to last an eternity, flaring hot like the transition to hyperspace, both of them gasping for air when they parted. Only with effort and a hand firmly on the back of his seat did she keep herself from tumbling into his lap. That was more than she was willing to give herself just yet. 

The desire was clear in his eyes, and she knew he’d welcome a tumble into his lap, into his bed. But she also saw the understanding there as she pulled away, the hand loosening its grip on the seat back to rest on his strong shoulder for a moment.

With a deep breath, she pulled away. Only when she reached the doorway did she look back. He was watching her with gentle smile that crinkled his eyes, and gave her a barely discernible nod. Then he spun the chair away, kicking his boots up onto the console to begin his turn at watch.

*

“You know, I wasn’t supposed to stay with the Rebellion. Not the active forces, anyway.” She tapped one fingernail against the glass of ale. 

“But you...you stole the Death Star plans. Were you just supposed to go back to the Senate?” Han pushed the last of his bowl of noodles away and stared at her.

“No. Well, I didn’t really steal the plans, I was more of an accidental conduit who was nearly caught holding them. But leadership wanted me to go underground, after Yavin. Said it’s what my father wanted.”

“Was it?”

She took a drink, wincing at the slightly bitter flavor. “I don’t think so. He was never one to hide, certainly.”

He looked at her skeptically. “It’s one thing when it’s yourself. ‘S another thing when it’s your little girl.”

Nodding, she conceded his astute point. “He knew what that mission to find Ben Kenobi meant, even without those plans, and never once did he mention hiding to me. He told me about the Rebellion, he’d have told me that.”

“They just wanted you to hide til…what, Vader dies of old age or some kinda miracle happens?” He snorted, shook his head. “They see the kinda aim you got with a blaster? No military official in his right mind would keep you outta the fight.”

“Well, not everyone is as open-minded as you are on that front.”

After taking a long drink of his ale, he shook his head. “You got that right. Not that I wanna see you up front, getting hurt.”

Quietly, she said, “I might not always have shared that thought.”

“Leia….”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For coming back for me.”

With effort, she met his eyes, saw the warmth there, saw the depth of sentiment neither were quite ready to have articulated. He instead slid around the acceleration couch until he was just beside her, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She tucked herself in close beside him, so that he could whisper right into her ear.

“I’ll always come back for you.” 

*

The worn, soft sheets tangled around her legs as warm, rough hands trailed over her still-heaving ribs, resting gently in the spaces between them as she took a slow, deep breath. Her eyes were closed, still living in a realm of heightened sensation, her skin still dancing with electricity under his fingers. It was quiet, beyond their ragged breathing and the background hum of the engines, and neither of them seemed in any hurry to break the spell.

Eventually, one of his hands trailed down her side, a slow caress than ended with him snagging the faded blue sheet and tugging it up over both their cooling bodies. She hummed a little as he tucked it around her, tucked her in closer to him. It felt comfortable, and right, his arm around her hip and her head on his shoulder. She twisted just a bit, rolling into him, her arm snaking across his waist.

Her fantasies had never gone quite this far, to the  _ after _ . She wasn’t sure she’d ever contemplated it; thinking about it would have made it inevitable, and it hadn’t been, until the moment the cabin door had closed behind them. Then all her hesitancy had faded away, and she’d allowed herself to want him as much as she’d ever wanted anything, and if it had been fumbling and new it had also been tender and right.

Now he seemed just as at ease, breathing slowing and body relaxing, but no less eager to have her tangled up with him. Somehow that surprised her.

“Y’okay, Sweetheart?” He gave her a little squeeze, pulling her even closer, giving her the option to say as much or as little as she cared to.

She mulled her words carefully, weighed whether any were required--she was so much more than okay. “Mmmm, can you just lift your arm, for a second?”

He did, and she tugged the end of her hair free, twisting it back behind her, then settling back against him. 

“Pretty,” he mumbled.

That seemed to be adequate to him, as he said nothing else, merely brushed a few kisses across her hairline before his head fell back and his breathing evened off to sleep.

She’d thought perhaps that was just an old wives’ tale, but he’d indeed fallen easily asleep. On the other hand, she felt wide awake, almost energized. Not that she had any desire to leave this narrow bunk, even if she could extricate herself from their tangle of limbs; no, she was very much where she wanted to be.

Thoughtful, she looked up at Han’s face, relaxed now as he held her in his sleep, none of the stress this journey had been putting on all of them evident. No, now he looked contented and sated. She wondered if she would look the same to his eyes. It certainly felt that way to her, unexpectedly so.

After studying his sleeping form for a while, she rested her cheek on his chest and let his steady respiration lull her to sleep, too.

*

This was the warmest she’d been in months. Possibly years. And she had no intention of moving, and absolutely no incentive to do so. It finally felt like all the jagged ice crystals inside her, cutting her to pieces, had melted, and she felt good.

She stretched gently, extending muscles and stretching out her legs. Except her efforts were hampered by legs tangling with her own, and an arm tightening around her waist. Taking a long, deep breath, she felt his chest do the same against her back, and she relaxed against him, shifting just enough to burrow a bit deeper under the cozy, downy comforter.

“If I’d known your bed was this warm, I might have started sleeping in here on Hoth.”

His rumbling laugh vibrated through her too, feeling more intimate than she’d expected. And she liked the feeling, very much.

“Yeah, sure, ‘come sleep with me, I’ll keep you warm’ would have gone over real well.”

She dug her nails lightly into the arm across her midsection and tried to keep from laughing herself. “I didn’t say I’d have slept  _ with you _ . I’d just have commandeered this very cozy bunk for myself.”

Laughter rumbled around her and he squeezed her tighter, pulling her flush against his chest. “I shoulda brought you one of these back when I picked this up. But I think that was the week you were mad at me for being in your dreams.”

“For being  _ warm _ in my dreams. I might have forgiven you faster if you’d brought me a quilt.”

“Or thought I was actually mocking you, instead of dream-me mocking you.”

“You are unaccountably good at it.”

“I’m good at other things, too.” His lips brushed the back of her neck, hot, and he wrapped himself more fully around her, flush against her.

She hummed in response, delighted both with the feel of his lips on her bare skin, tracing down her neck and across her shoulder, and the cozy warmth of being wrapped up here in bed with him.

  
  


*

The timer beeped, alerting her that the meals had been fully rehydrated and reheated. They at least smelled appetizing, though if the past few days had been any indication, it was not an indicator of taste. But it was food, and she carefully carried the trays into the lounge, where Han and Chewie were both sitting with dusty, unlabeled bottles of some obscure drink they’d pulled out of one of the holds. 

“Dinner is served,” she announced, sliding the trays down onto the table. 

Chewie, seemingly immune to the heat, drew them across to their places. < _ At least it smells good. _ >

Han shrugged and poked it with his fork. “‘Least we still got food. We are good on food, right?”

“Yes,” she said, sliding in next to him, close enough that their thighs touched. “We’re good on kaffe and tea. There’s two weeks worth of these heatable meals, if we do ration bars for breakfast. Those aren’t too palatable, but there are two cases down in the hold. I’m pretty sure we could make it the whole way to Coruscant on those if we had to.”

“Think I’d rather starve.” As if to emphasize the point, Han stabbed at an unidentified orange vegetable on the tray and shuddered.

“How many more days to we have til we get to Bespin?”

He sighed and shared a glance with the Wookie. Chewbacca only glared back, until Han answeed. “Eight days. I think. We did a little work with the power distribution, so I think we’ll get there a day earlier than the original estimate.”

That should have been good news, to all of them. It was clear that there had been a discussion about it between the two males, and she was left with the feeling that Han would rather it have taken longer. 

She nodded, looking down at the sauce and poking at something that might have been a protein with her fork. It would be so nice to have a real shower, and a real meal, and a functional ship. But there was a part of her that wished that their time here in this pleasantness they’d found together, could be extended. In perpetuity. 

But she also knew that they all had obligations beyond this ship, this journey. And they now had a deadline for facing them.

All three ate their flavorless meals in silence.

*

When the chrono sounded the alarm on their last morning on the Falcon’s flight to Bespin, the bed was just as warm and comfortable as it had been the week before. The blankets were warm and comfortable, and his arm was slung comfortably across her waist, even as she sprawled as best she could on her stomach next to where he slept, half on his side. His other hand flailed at the chrono, pounding it a few times until the alarm ceased.

Then he rolled more fully onto his side, wrapping both arms around her. She hummed, and debated for a moment which way she wanted to roll--spooning with him in the blankets was so delightful, but she enjoyed being able to kiss him, too. Ultimately she decided on kisses, and blinked her eyes in the still-dimmed light of the cabin as she rolled to face him.

He met her with a smirk, followed by the hoped-for kiss as the hand at her waist pulled her closer. He was always so warm, a comforting heat in the void of space, and always so willing to share his warmth with her. Leia happily moved closer, pressing her bare flesh against his from shoulders to knees.

Their kisses were familiar now, easy, but no less passionate. She loved kissing him, just touching him, and would have happily spent the next day right in this bunk, doing nothing else. But the alarm rudely intruded again, and he pulled away with a groan to slam it again.

“We’re two hours out from planetfall.” He flopped down onto his back, running a hand through his disheveled hair, leaving spikes sticking every which direction.

“I understand, Han.” She leaned over and gave him one more kiss, her tongue just tracing his lower lip, before sitting up. 

Shaking his head, he sat up too, glaring around the room as the lights brightened. Then, he turned back to look at her as she perched on the edge of his bunk. “This wasn’t just--this.”

She met his eyes, saw his struggle to express the complexity of what had shifted between them. “I know.” She reached out for him, and was relieved when he took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I meant what I said. About always coming back for you.”

It was a conversation she didn’t want to have again, even though she knew it was one they needed to have again. So much had changed between them since they’d discussed his debt to Jabba. But she didn’t want that to be occupy their last moments alone together in this makeshift idyll.

So she merely smiled, and kept her hand in his as he pulled her off the bed and into his embrace. She would do her best not to think of every touch as the last time, would try to think of all this as a prelude to more, later. Instead, she kissed the scar on his chin, and gave him a gentle tug towards the shower. 

“Let’s get ready to meet this Lando Calrissian.”

**Author's Note:**

> This started off as a random song-title shuffle based series of drabbles. Those got out of control, size-wise, and really only the title and one tiny song title in one vignette remain from that exercise. I can't even remember what the other songs were now!


End file.
